Queen of Hearts
by Junipertree
Summary: A bit of light romance, kinda humory. Hermione can\'t decide who she wants... so she\'ll have them all. She dates Viktor Krum, enjoys tugging her best friends\' heartstrings, and shock of shocks finds herself attracted to Draco Malfoy.
1. Scarlet Woman

Scarlet Woman (1/ 

As you all know, FFN is on the fritz, and so I can't upload chapters for any of my fics. So I wrote this. 

Disclaimer: It's all J.K. Rowling's, I don't own it, don't sue me.

****

Scarlet Woman

Hermione pushed Ron into the wall, her mouth on his. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer – 

"Stop." He pushed her away.

Hermione looked hurt. "Ron-"

"No. You're still with Krum." He folded his arms. "Much as I would like to snog with you, 'Mione, I do have a conscience. Does the word 'loyalty' have any meaning to you?"

Hermione sighed, and looked at the floor. "I broke up with him. Or, rather, he broke up with me. It happened months ago. He thinks we're better off just friends."

Ron tapped his toe. "Uh huh. And I'm supposed to believe this? You haven't been the most trustworthy person lately."

Hermione gaped at her friend, shocked. "Ron, I would never lie to you about something like that!"

Ron merely settled his cold gaze upon her. "Oh, really? That's what you said the last time." He turned on his heel and walked up the staircase towards his dorm. "You've changed, Hermione, you've changed."

Hermione watched him leave the Gryffindor common room, now alone. Was it something she'd said? She sighed and collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace, absently stroking the arm. She knew what it was, of course. _You've changed, Hermione, you've changed._ His parting words echoed back at her, only making her more miserable. She _had_ changed, really. Ron was in love with the old Hermione, not the person she was now. He was in love with the sensible bookworm with a good heart, not the reckless, self-confident, loose Hermione she was now. Yes, she had changed…

__

"Loosen up, Hermione."

Those were the words that had changed her. Maybe it was for the good, she didn't know. Viktor had said those words, in fact, right before he'd kissed her. She smiled, remembering. He'd finally gotten her name right.

__

"You need to relax, Hermione. Stop thinking about vork, do vot you feel like doing, just anything. Don't think about vot other people might vant or think about you, just be yourself."

He was so sweet. The first guy she'd ever met who saw her as a woman, not just as 'one of the guys'. They'd been together for two years before parting ways – they'd both decided it was for the better, and a distance relationship was always better between friends. Hermione thought of him as a sort of close penpal, these days.

She sighed and picked up her Arithmancy book, which had been leaning against the side of the chair. Hermione opened it to her present spot, smoothing out the creases of the long-used book. It was still her favorite subject – numbers always made sense. They seemed to relax her, take away all the aches and pains of the day as she pored over complicated number charts and diagrams.

Well, Hermione knew what was bothering Ron. Ever since her and Viktor had separated, she'd been… drifting. More precisely, He was commenting on the fact that he'd seen her snogging with Harry just a week and a half ago, made worse by the fact that they were both very bad liars.

The fire burned out, and rather than send for a House-Elf to light it (she still had reservations about them) she piled some wood and old newspaper on it herself. One particular article in an old copy of Witch Weekly caught her eye. 

__

HARRY POTTER'S SECRET HEARTACHE

A boy like no other, perhaps…Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriends at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger…seems to have a taste for famous wizards…toying with boy's affections…she'd be well up to making a Love Potion…bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.

Toying with boys' affections. Black Widow. Player.

Scarlet Woman.

She laughed, an empty, hollow sound, at the very term that Ron had said his mother used. _The Queen of Hearts strikes again._ Hermione thought wryly. _The latest name on the long list of my conquests. Is this who I am? When Viktor told me to act like myself, not like people expected me to act, did I show my true colors?_ Of course not, she scolded herself. But…

__

Toying with boys' affections. And she liked it.

She liked the feeling of power she had when a boy would follow her every whim, when she had thoroughly convinced him that she was his hearts' desire, that she could grant his every wish. That feeling that he would do anything, anything she asked of him, simply because she was 'his' Hermione… she cut off that train of thought. What was she thinking? How could she toy with a person like that! It was… cruel. Sneaky. Deceitful. 

But how could she help it if boys fell in love with her all the time? She was Head Girl, pretty, kind, and had charisma like no other. How could someone not love Hermione Granger? 

~*~

"Harry…" Hermione said between his kisses, running her hands up and down his chest underneath his shirt. 

Suddenly he stopped. "Herm," he said, "We've got to go. Potions next, remember?"

Hermione glanced down at her timetable, which was on the floor with her schoolbooks, and bit back a curse. Rebuttoning the top three buttons on her robes, she scooped up her things and raced down the hall, down the staircase toward the dungeons. If they were late, not only would she have to endure Snape's sarcasm and have points docked, she'd probably get knowing looks and winks from both Slytherins and Gryffindors for the next three weeks.

She had just sat herself in a table with Harry when Professor Snape walked in and class started.

"Today we are going to work on one of the most advanced potions you'll have to learn. You can be sure this will be on the NEWTs." Snape paced back and forth. "Veritaserum. The weakest version, of course, I doubt a single one of you – no, not even you, Miss Granger – could manage anything stronger. Most can resist it, and unlike the true version, an overdose will do you no harm. You begin with…" he began to list ingredients and how to put them together.

Near the end of the class, Hermione looked at her potion. It was sort of a milky white – true Veritaserum was perfectly clear. She peered over at Harry's cauldron – his was a bit whiter.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape hissed as he bent over Neville's cauldron, "Isn't this particular potion supposed to be _white?_ Did I not specifically say that you add the Extract of Ghenna _after_ the potion comes to a boil?" 

Neville looked down at the floor. His potion was… well, orange. It looked like an orangey-yellow liquid half-dissolved in a perfectly clear one, rather like a lava lamp. He wasn't as abysmal as he used to be – he had a bit more confidence, now, but he never ceased to mess up his potions.

Snape stuck a small vial into the liquid and brought it out, full. "Since you seem to be completely incapable of getting what you were supposed to make, let's see what you did. I highly doubt it is poison, but you never know." 

The implications finally sank in as Neville was dragged up to the front of the room. 

"Bottom up, Longbottom," Snape said wickedly and handed Neville the vial.

Nervously, Neville screwed his eyes up tight and downed the whole thing in one swallow.

Oh! It was so… strange! He felt like he was floating, floating on air. All around him were orange clouds, orange clouds on a clear sky.

Neville opened his mouth. Here, in this marvelous place, everyone was happy! If he told them all his deepest secrets, they'd all understand!

"I have a crush on Parvati Patil!" he blurted. "I was the one who started that rumor about Pansy Parkinson working as a lapdancer in the holidays! She'd left her journal on the table after class, and I read everything in it, cover to cover! I know that Vincent Crabbe is gay, and I was the one who dropped the firecracker in Draco's potion two weeks ago! I'm still afraid of the dark, and I sleep with a teddy bear named Bobo, and I –"

"That's quite enough, Mr. Longbottom," Snape said, amused. "We don't want you revealing your deepest, darkest secrets to everyone in the class, now, do we?" Neville nodded dazedly and wobbled back to his seat.

"Psst! Neville!" Ron whispered from behind. "What did you put in that potion??" he asked.

Neville recited perfectly what he had done, as if in trance, and Ron scribbled it all down with glee.

Hermione stayed a few minutes after class to finish copying some notes, and was about to leave when she saw Draco Malfoy arguing with Pansy Parkinson at the door. 

"I'm not going to let you leave until you apologize." Pansy said stubbornly.

"Apologize for what?" Draco snorted. "You heard the guy, Longbottom started the rumor, and hey, it's not his fault it's true-" he ducked a slap from Pansy.

"You're so mean!" she said tearfully. "First you dump me, humiliatingly and publicly-"

"Actually, Pansy, _you_ dumped _me, _and it was actually quite a relief-"

"Shut up!" Pansy said, stomping her foot. "I might have been nice, but _no, _you just had to be mean!" she started to slam the door shut as Draco began a hex, but it was too late. She'd locked them in.

After a moment, Draco muttered "_Alohomor-_" he never even said the last letter as he was blasted back three feet. "Damn her." He tried a few other spells, all of them drew blanks.

"Crap!" he kicked the door, hard, but it didn't receive so much as a dent. He sat down for a moment, then tried again – this time, he tried cursing the door open, with everything from lighting it on fire to disintegrating it to powder, but to no avail. The door held.

"It's no use," Draco heard a voice from behind him, and turned around to face Hermione. "Snape spells all his doors against magic so that kids don't come in and steal his ingredients. Suspicious little bastard, isn't he? It seems they work from the inside as well."

"I didn't ask for your input, Granger," Draco sneered. The he made a face. "There isn't any other way out?"

Hermione wasn't sure to be smug or pissed. "Nope. So now I'm stuck with you until Snape gets back. Just great." She sighed, and plopped back down on the nearest table.

"Well, he'll be back soon, right?" Draco asked. "I mean, he's still got classes… oh shit." That was when Draco realized that the seventh year Gryffs and Slyths were Snape's last class of the day. "Someone might hear our screams?" Draco said weakly.

Hermione began leafing through her textbooks. "Do you know any spells that might get us out? Like maybe something that could summon someone you know?"

"Even if I did I wouldn't help you, Mu-"

Suddenly Hermione stood up and slapped him hard across the cheek. "Shut up, Malfoy. I don't have to deal with your crap. Harry can put up with it, but I'm sick of it. You hear me? I'm sick of your whining about every teacher except Snape. I'm sick of you showing off your fifty-Galleon name-brand robes. I'm sick of you boasting to everyone how rich your father is. But most of all I'm sick of how you think somehow that you're better than me just because I'm from a Muggle family. If you're so hyped up about bloodlines, Malfoy, go back to the Dark Ages when it really makes a difference." She slammed her book on the table in front of her and put her feet up in a very un-Hermione like gesture, staring straight ahead with a glare that could bore holes.

Draco just stood there, staring at her. He put a hand up to the red handprint-shaped mark on his cheek, just feeling it sting. That was what shocked him. 

She'd slapped him before, sure, plenty of times. Hermione was one of the few people who could do it and return alive. But the way she spoke… she seemed so sure of herself, so confident. She wasn't that book-obsessed teachers' pet she used to be. She'd changed. _You've changed, Hermione, you've changed…_he only realized he'd spoken his thoughts out loud when he closed his mouth.

Hermione gave him a bitter smile. "Deja-vu. You know, Ron said the exact same thing to me yesterday. Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" 

Draco opened his mouth to voice some sarcastic remark, then shut it again. Something about what she said just… rang a bell. Struck a chord. Hit a nerve. Something. 

__

Draco sat in a comfortable chair beside the fireplace, The Daily Prophet it his hands. He was reading the latest article…

YOU-KNOW-WHO RETURNS

The wizarding world has been thrown into panic at the untimely events at the Triwizard Tournament in June…one Cedric Diggory, fifth year at Hogwarts, killed…number of loyal Death Eaters unknown…

Lucius Malfoy walked into the room and saw what his son was reading. "Give me the paper." Draco handed him the paper as his father read the article with a faint smile on his lips, "Fools." He threw the paper down on his son's lap, about to exit the room.

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Draco mused under his breath.

His father heard anyway. He said nothing – only gave his son a hard, calculating look, and strode briskly out of the room.

Draco shuddered, remembering. He'd seen Cedric Diggory's body. He'd seen the Death Eaters rejoicing over the Dark Lord's rise. Some part of him had enjoyed it, reveled in the rise of his lord and master, and awaited the day when he could serve… but another part of him, small, insignificant… no! Not insignificant… had cried out, had been repulsed, had said _this is wrong, look at him, how can you live with yourself every day when you know so much wrong has been done…_

Draco shrugged, and sat down at the table beside Hermione's. "We can't be down here long. Your boyfriends will come looking for you, right?"

Hermione grimaced. "Not exactly. Ron is pissed off at me and doesn't want to see my face for a week, and Harry has two overdue Transfiguration assignments and three overdue for Divination, plus his History of Magic homework. That'll keep him busy for a while."

For a while they just sat there, in silence. Hermione took the spare time to do her Potions homework, and was halfway through her Charms as well when Draco spoke.

"You don't know anything that will get us out of here? I'm freezing cold."

Hermione shook her head. "All the spells I could find involved having a piece of the person you want to call with you – like hair, saliva, toenail clippings, etcetera."

"Oh." Draco went back to tapping his quill on the table – it was a tricky game of coordination. You tap the quill between each of your splayed fingers in turn, then outside of them, going faster and faster and closer towards the center. It's harder than it looks – Draco had got going pretty fast when Hermione broke the silence.

"Malfoy," she said, and he painfully jabbed the quill into his index finger.

"What do you want?" she sucked on his finger.

"If you're creating a Assinger's Web, do you multiply or divide the negative numbers in the third quadrant?"

"Depends. If you've got an odd number in the center, multiply, if it's even, divide."

"Thanks."

Draco stopped sucking his finger. "It's the same principle as the Prometheus cube, only you don't square the fourth product."

"You seem to know a lot about Arithmancy.' Hermione said, nibbling on the end of her quill.

Draco shrugged. 'It's easy. Logical. Once you know the patterns, it all falls into place."

"I know! Harry and Ron are always saying is so complicated, but really, it's not, they just don't understand-" she stopped, and blushed. "Sorry."

Draco snorted. "Sorry for what? Sorry for the fact that your little string of boyfriends have about as much brains between them as a house fly?"

"Harry is not-"

"Sticking up for Potter, eh? I heard he's been using you as a bedwarmer for the past month and a half."

"Why? You jealous?" Hermione shot back. Draco said nothing, and Hermione went back to her work. She could help but be distracted all through her History of Magic essay by Draco's profile. She kept glancing back at him – _God, he's got nice hands. Long fingers, smooth skin. Nice chin, too. Rather pointed without being too feminine. Nice lips…_she stopped that train of thought before it had even begun. She sighed to herself – _I've finally found the one guy who hasn't fallen head over heels in love with me, and I'm more attracted to him than to any guy who actually likes me. Is it just me, or is that irony at its best?_ Then she grimaced. _What am I thinking! For crying out loud, _Draco Malfoy!_ Harry would choke! Neville would faint! Ron would go into convulsions! _

Hermione Granger, you've finally lost it. You're absolutely bonkers. Lost your marbles. Not dealing with a full deck. A few fries short of a Happy Meal. In short, you're nuts.

Draco got out his Transfigurations homework and whipped through it. "Granger, if you think I'm that sexy then why don't you just stare at me instead of taking sneak peeks? You can get more in one shot."

Hermione blushed and stopped staring at him. _See? That's what you get for falling for an ass like him. I'd rather date Lockhart than him. I'd rather date Snape than – no, that's going too far. Snape in is underpants I something I just do not want to contemplate. _

Draco slamed down his quill and stared at the paper. This was a mess! He'd better say bye-bye to his Charms mark, it was sure as hell going down the drain! He felt a presence by his shoulder and looked up to see Hermione.

"The Attraction Charm works best by night, not by day." She said, and pointed out the rest of his mistakes.

But right now Draco was receiving the full force of Attraction Charm, and no wands were involved. Sure, he'd thought she was pretty before, and she had brains, and the wits to use them, and she was charming, and funny, and – _OK, OK, _he said to himself._ I give in. Let's go with plan A._

Draco surged up and turned around, wrapped his hands behind Hermione's neck and kissed her.

Hermiones' eyes opened in shock. She'd definitely not been expecting this! But hey, why rock the boat, and Draco was a great kisser.

"Is anybody in here?" Someone threw open the door to the potions lab to see Hermione with her back on a table, Draco Malfoy on top of her, kissing passionately.

"Eep." Harry said quietly.

Hermione whipped herself up and face Harry, hair in a disarray and the first four buttons of her robes undone. "This isn't what it looks like, really." She squeaked.

Harry blinked. "So you were not snogging Draco Malfoy in the empty Potions classroom. I did not come in here."

"That is correct."

Harry turned to leave. "Wait a minute – " Hermione asked. "How did you get in here?"

Harry blinked again. "I opened the door."

"It wasn't locked?"

"No. Why?"

Hermione turned to glare at Draco, who was grinning sheepishly back at her.

_______________________________________________________________________ 

Review!


	2. My Boyfriend, the Death Eater

Thankyou for all your wonderful reviews 

Thankyou for all your wonderful reviews! I was planning a sequel anyways, but this just got me going. This is a bit more of a sequel fic than a chapter, but what the hey. And you thought the first chappie what short? Ha! I've written two-paragraph-long chapters – consider yourself lucky!

And hey, if you can have a Venus Fly-Trap, why not a Mercury Fly-Trap, or a Neptune Fly-Trap!

Disclaimer: I don't own JKR's stuff, you know the rap.

****

My Boyfriend, the Death Eater

"You WHAT?!" Ron stood in shock, staring at Harry.

"I saw Hermione and Malfoy snogging in the empty Potions lab," Harry said patiently.

Ron's jaw opened and shut several times. "What were you on??" he demanded.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, Ron, I do not spent my free time smoking weed in the boys' bathroom."

Ron just sat down, hard. Unfortunately, he missed the chair and landed on the ground. "It's a joke," he said. "It's got to be."

"It's no joke, Ron."

"I am going to so eat her head off!!"

~*~

Hermione shrugged her bag more snugly over her shoulder and walked up the staircase towards Gryffindor Tower. She really wasn't sure what to make of the whole thing – was Draco really as big of a jerk as he seemed? Did he really mean something by that kiss, or what he just messing with her mind?

Giving the Fat Lady the password – "Juggernaut" – Hermione stepped through the portrait hole to be besieged by Harry and Ron, both talking at once and very quickly.

"You won't believe the things Harry was saying today-"

"And then Ron just nearly fainted-"

"He said you and Malfoy were snogging in the Potions lab, honestly-"

"I tried to tell him but he wouldn't believe me –"

"QUIET!" Hermione bellowed, loud enough for the entire common room to hear. "Let's go someplace more private, shall we?" Harry, Ron and Hermione retreated to a semi-private corner behind some chairs, the farthest away from the fireplace. 

"Okay, one at a time. I assume this is about that incident you witnessed, Harry…?"

Harry began to explain the entire thing all over again to Ron, who refused to believe a word of it. 

"Ha, ha, guys," he said. "Really funny. I'm not _that_ gullible, you know."

~*~

That evening, Ron tossed and turned in his sleep. He dreamt of Draco and Hermione, they were kissing… then Draco turned around and saw Ron. He waved.

"Hi, Weasley. I know you're one of Hermie's friends, so I wanted to invite you to the wedding."

"No! Ron cried. "You can't marry her! You can't!" Then he was there, at the wedding, with Draco and Hermione at the altar. 

"If any should speak against these two coming together, then speak now or forever hold your peace…"

"No!" Ron yelled, running up to the front of the chapel. "I speak against! Hermione! Listen to me! I love you…"

Draco turned around, grinning. He raised his wand, and Ron could see the Dark Mark on his left forearm. "Too late, Weasley, it's done. You're looking and Hermione Malfoy now."

"But you can't!" Ron screamed. "She's Muggle-born! You're on of them!"

Then Hermione smiled at him. Hermione Malfoy. "Sorry, hon. I had to do it." She raised her arm, since when was 'Mione left-handed? And she pointed her wand at him, the arm with the skull and snake. "Avada…"

Then the best man turned around, red eyes glowing. "Kedavara." He finished.

Ron bolted straight up in bed, screaming. 

"What the…" Seamus fluently spouted a stream of curses, giving Ron a three new uses for a bed post. 

"At the wedding. And – and _You-Know-Who_ was best man." Ron said, breathing hard and sweating as if he'd just ran a long distance.

Harry groped for his glasses, which were lying folded on his bedside table. "Who's wedding?" he asked groggily.

"Hermione and Malfoy! And Wormtail was the minister!"

Harry shuddered. "Wormtail's dead, remember? Deep six feet below the cold, cold ground. In pieces." He added.

"Just a nightmare," Ron said, not as sure as he sounded. "Just go back to sleep." Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus soon winked off, but Ron was left awake with his thoughts. Was it true? Was his Hermione in love with Draco Malfoy? _Please say it isn't true, 'Mione, please say it isn't true…How could you, Herm? I loved you. Love you. I would give my life for you. And you keep hurting me._ Ron turned his face into his pillow so his dorm-mates wouldn't hear his sobs.

~*~

The next morning Hermione was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't even notice that Ron was absent from classes. After Herbology, though, she realized he was missing.

"Where's Ron?" Hermione asked Harry, who was jamming a Mercury Fly-Trap into its clay pot a little more forcefully that was necessary. 

"Funny you asked," Harry fumed. "He's been gone all blinking day and you haven't noticed until now! Fine time you give your friends."

Hermione looked hurt. "I'm _sorry, _Harry, I've just been so preoccupied-"

"Yeah, mentally undressing Malfoy," Harry muttered under his breath.

"What did you say?" Hermione said sharply.

"Uh… I said, 'did you use Mellony's Freshening Mouthwash?' Your breath smells really nice." he hastily covered up. "For your information," Harry continued icily, "Ron has been up in the dorm for the past four hours, playing chess with himself and dripping tears all over the board."

Hermione looked away. _Serves her right,_ Harry thought. _She doesn't even care the way she treats her friends anymore. She treats Ron like crap and expects him to follow her loyally._ He carefully excluded his own feelings from the situation – that would only complicate things. Harry didn't even look at Hermione all through the rest of class, much less speak with her – but if he had, he might have seen the silent tears dripping down her cheeks and into her Neptune Fly-Trap's waiting jaws.

~*~

Ron sat miserably on his four-poster, moving a knight back and forth, again and again. Never mind that knights couldn't move diagonally, he was too miserable to care. His pieces were quiet, too, perhaps they sensed his depression.

He picked up the black queen and twirled it in his fingers. That's what Hermione was, a queen. The most powerful one on the board…

But she didn't control the outcome of the game.

Then who was the king? Immediately a face sprang to mind. Malfoy. Was he the king? Ron laughed bitterly. _Then I am surely the pawn. I am nothing but a life to be thrown away, one to be controlled. Nothing but the latest broken heart on a long string of her conquests. I hate her. I love her. I hate her and I love her._

God, the bitch.

"Ron?" a voice came from the doorway, breaking his train of thought. He didn't even turn around. He knew that voice, the voice that whispered to him at night, the voice that told him that she loved him…

"Sod off," he told Hermione.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Draco-"

"Oh, now it's 'Draco', is it?" Ron sneered. "Well I'm not falling for it, Hermione. I would have done anything for you. I would have given you my soul. But it's too late now. It wasn't just him, Hermione. I saw the way Harry looked at you. Do you think this is some kind of game, bitch?" he spat. "Do you enjoy doing this to people? Tearing them up inside so they can't tell what they want or who they love, and then just laughing it off? Well I'm not going to take it anymore. Get out of my life."

"Ron-" he couldn't read the look on her face. "Are we still… friends?"

"I wouldn't be friends with you if we were the last two alive on earth." Ron turned back to his solo game of chess.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said as she backed out of the room. And then came the words that froze Ron's heart. "I love you."

~*~

Hermione was miserable. Her friends wouldn't speak to her, not to mention most of the other seventh-years and a few sixth-years as well. Draco was acting like his mean old self again, and she was having trouble with Ancient Runes – she _thought_ she'd memorized all the Symbols of Thelerates, but as soon as she picked up the quill for a test everything she'd studied just flowed straight out of her head. Her lack of sleep was making her short-tempered, and sharp-tongued, and she was generally pissed off at the world.

After a particularly wearing Ancient Runes class, Hermione was in an especially nasty mood – stomping down the hallway with a look on her face that clearly said 'don't mess.'

Suddenly her books and quills went flying everywhere as she whammed into Draco Malfoy.

"Watch where you're going, numbskull," she hissed. "Now I'm going to be late for Arithmancy."

Draco looked like he was going to give her a particularly cutting reply, but changed his mind at the last minute. He settled himself with, "Stop sharpening your tongue on me and pick up your damn books." Hermione scooped them up in record time and raced towards her Arithmancy class.

Draco sighed as the bell rang, and knew he was going to be late – he was supposed to be in that same Arithmancy class that Hermione was in. But he just didn't care anymore – and cutting once wouldn't kill him.

He walked through the emptyhallways and down a few secret passageways when he thought he heard Filch or Mrs. Norris, mind wandering. Well, it wasn't really wandering – more like lingering on one face, one person, one figure that had been haunting his days and nights for nearly a week. Hermione.

__

Why should I keep thinking about her? He snapped at himself. _She's a Mudblood. Inferior. Besides, Father would kill me. Literally. You never liked her before, and you've known her for seven years. Probably just an infatuation - it'll pass._

Pass? Who was he kidding, she'd gotten his attention two years ago when he'd realized there was a person underneath the Hermione everybody saw. She'd been Viktor Krum's girlfriend then, which equaled 'touch and die'. Under his influence she'd changed so much – not even changed so much as blossomed. And not just emotionally, too. She cut quite a figure these days – the main reason why most guys followed drooling at her heels.

__

Give me a chance, Hermione. _Give me a chance and I'll give you everything you've always wanted. Just give me a chance._

Maybe he had to give himself a chance. Maybe.

~*~

Hermione returned to her dorm to find a note on her bed. This wasn't too odd, she often got notes there from all sorts of people, sent by a simple Sending Charm. This time, the strange thing was who it was from.

__

Draco.

She really didn't know what to make of him. He switched moodily between two faces – one the face she had known for nearly seven years and the other she had met only recently. Hermione found herself thinking of the kiss they had shared, and wondered if they'd ever do it again. 

__

Stop that! She scolded herself. _Now is not the time! _She picked up the letter and ripped it open apprehensively. What if it was a letter saying that the kiss was just a joke, a dare, a prank. That it meant nothing.

__

Hermione, (it read),

__

I know I have been an ass lately but I just wanted to talk to you. Meet me by the painting of Sleeping Beauty, after dinner.

-D.M.

Well, that was fairly inconclusive. It could mean just about anything.

Hermione gave a whoop of happiness and hugged the piece of paper in her hands.

~*~

Draco waited for Hermione, leaning against the wall. He had no idea what he was going to say. He'd rehearsed dozens of different lines, and none of them felt right. He'd pushed all thoughts of his father and his future out of his mind, of what he would do if he could actually earn Hermione's respect. He'd worry about that when it came – for now he would just make it up as he went along.

He was jolted out of his reverie by a tap on his right shoulder.

"Hi," Hermione said quietly. 

"Hi." There was a bit of a silence between them.

"Look, I'm sorry for being such a jerk," Draco said finally. "I just – I don't know." He went on to Plan B – just kiss her.

He wrapped his arms around the small of her back, pulling her close and placing his lips softly on hers. Heat flooded though Hermione as she breathed his sharp smell, the smell of ice on a misty day. She felt her hands move up his back, up his neck to comb through his silvery-blonde hair – 

"No." she said fiercely, and pushed him away, then looked straight up into his eyes. "Why did you do it?" there was no question between them about what 'it' was. "Why, after years of mocking my friends and calling me Mudblood, have you decided that you love me – or it is lust? I'm not blind, you know. Why is it that you've singled me out, severed all my connections with my friends, and then kiss me again?" her voice was starting to crack. "Why?"

Draco hung his head. The truth was, he didn't know. He didn't know why he wanted her. All his life his father had taught him to detest Muggles and Mudbloods, detest them for bringing such pain into the world. Hate them for crawling out of their muck and trying to take pure-bloods down from their rightful position in life. And he still felt that way. About all of them – except Hermione.

Before, he wouldn't have given her a second glance. She was so precocious, so stuck-up, but in a Gryffindor sort of way – which only made it worse. She would never bend the rules, never learn to have fun, never show her wild side. The side that she had kept locked up under constraints for so long, that Krum had set free. She was the most complicated, intriguing, attractive person Draco had ever met. She was completely, utterly Hermione.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know."

Hermione's expression softened a bit. "I know about your family, Draco. Will you become a Death Eater?"

Draco's head snapped up at the unexpected question, and the silent echo that followed. _Will you betray me?_ The echo said. 

"I would never become a Death Eater if it meant that I would have to hurt you." Draco replied softly.

Isn't it strange how easy it is to break a promise?

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I'll leave it on that note. And yes, I'll do one more chapter – it will be maybe three years later, and I'm calling it Double Vision. ; ) Ah, metaphorical titles, gotta love 'em… please review!


	3. Double Vision

Disclaimer: It ain't mine 

Disclaimer: It ain't mine. You get the picture. It's aaaaall JKR's.

A/N: I'm going to rename this fic, 'Queen of Hearts'. It's more three fics than a single three-chaptered fic, as I said before. Thankyou everybody for your reviews! A bit of a time jump for this last part. Erm, I have no idea if wizards drink coffee. Why not? This is more angsty than the other two – for Draco lovers and haters alike.

****

Double Vision

__

Flashback.

"Draco?" Hermione looked deep into her lovers' eyes, wondering what she saw there.

"I'm sorry." No words were said, the silence was heavy, weighing down on her shoulders.

Then she saw it. The black Mark tattooed on his inner forearm, a snake emerging from the mouth of a skull.

"You bastard," she whispered. "You broke your promise."

"Hermione, I-"

"You said you loved me." Silence. "Get out." With a shaking hand she pointed towards the door.

"Hermione!"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!" she screamed at him. "Get out of my life!"

He backed up slowly, an unreadable expression playing across his face. "Fine. Turn me in. Send me to Azkaban. Tell them all, Mudblood, if you live that long." He spat, whipping around and out the door.

"I won't tell," Hermione whispered at his retreating back. "I would never tell." 

****

__

The present: three years after Hermione's graduation from Hogwarts.

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione.

"Hermione!" Ron shook his wife awake, watching her eyelids blink open.

__

She's so beautiful, he thought. _She's as beautiful as she was the day I married her._

"Draco?" she mumbled, and Ron froze. 

"I'm Ron, remember?" 

Hermione blinked a few more times and rubbed her eyes. "Morning, Ron," she said, a mix between fatigue and cheerfulness. "What is it?"

"You were talking in your sleep. You started crying and screaming, insulting someone, saying, 'get out of my life, you broke your promise', again and again. Are you all right?" he sounded concerned.

"Did I say anything else?" Hermione turned white, and grasped Ron's shoulders tightly. "What did I say?" 

Ron gave his beloved an odd look. "No. Nothing coherent." 

Hermione lay back on the pillow in relief. "Good."

"Why are you so worried?" he asked, concerned.

"Nothing. It's nothing, love, just a nightmare. I feel like some coffee." Hermione got up, stretched, and padded towards the kitchen.

Ron just stayed there, frozen in one position. He'd lied. All through whatever dream she'd been having she was yelling the same thing: "Draco." Ron could never forget Draco, though he tried to. It brought back too many memories…

~*~

Hermione poured herself some coffee and sat down at the table, cup warming her hands. That dream had shaken something loose inside her, something she wanted dearly to forget. But how could she forget Draco Malfoy? She'd loved him, once, and he returned her love by betraying her and everything she lived for. So how come she still thought about him, not with fear and revulsion, but with compassion?

_Forget him, Hermione. He's gone. He's in the past. Just forget._

~*~

"You have served me well, Draco, even better than your father." the words slid from the Dark Lord's slippery tongue, enticing and repulsing all at once.

Draco shivered. He could still never get used to the sound of his master's voice. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort arched his long fingers thoughtfully, his gaze boring into Draco's skull. 'I now have a task that will seem like childsplay to you, and I think you might enjoy it very much."

"What is it, my Lord?"

"It is a normal raid – you shall go with one other of my followers. This couple is a key point in my plans. One Ronald Weasley, Deputy Head of the Department of Wizarding Games and Sports, and his Mudblood wife-"

Draco's blood froze.

"Hermione Weasley. I believe they were in your year at school, no?"

"Yes, my Lord." Draco said in a flat tone, trying not to show his reluctance. Oh, God, anyone but her – but if he protested, Voldemort would use it against him. Voldemort probably already knew about his relationship with Hermione, and this mission was to make the Dark Lord sure of his follower's loyalty. Draco wasn't even sure of his loyalty – he would kill anybody but Hermione, and enjoy it. Anybody but Hermione. He'd almost managed to forget about her, destroy her memory completely, but the Dark Lord's words had brought it all rushing back.

"I will be watching the headlines." Voldemort gave a slight smile, one that paralyzed most with fear, even his own followers.

"Consider it done, my Lord."

~*~

Draco looked at himself in the mirror. Who did he see? Did he see a wizard honestly serving the Ministry, living out his life rich and alone?

Did he see a Death Eater living a double life, a lie, who went out every night in black robes and a mask to kill and torture Muggles, Mudbloods, and Ministry officials?

Did he see Draco Malfoy? Did he see the person, the one behind the mask, the one with wants and needs beyond material values? Did he see a human being?

Draco looked at himself in the mirror and saw a pale man with pale blonde hair, deep shadows under his eyes. He saw a man who enjoyed killing, got a thrill of adrenaline from seeing his victims suffer, was filled with ecstasy at the sound of his victims' screams. He saw a man he hated, a man he couldn't face every day because he didn't know what he wanted anymore. He saw this man in the mirror and put on his mask so as not to see it anymore, and left to do his duty.

~*~

The roads were cold and icy, sleet whipping at his face as he left the manor grounds so he could Disapparate. He flicked his wand once and appeared at the door of the house of two particular Death Eaters that he knew very well indeed. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had followed in their fathers' footsteps as well, and well they were not bright, they were loyal.

His cronies silently accompanied him as Draco Apparated at a cozy, two-story house situated outside of a small town called Whittenshire. _It's Hermione's, all right,_ he thought with a heavy heart. _It has her mark all over it._ He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and thought of ice. Ice to make him cold, to make him forget. I am ice.

"Come on," he beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle. They were both home, it was only around eight-o-clock – warm lights shone from the windows. They walked up to the door and Draco calmly opened it, looking around the hallway in amusement. It had Weasley's touch, all right. Crabbe and Goyle had decided to smash some of the things in the living room, shattering vases and lamps with beams of light from their wands. Draco didn't – let they babies play with their toys.

Hermione was in the kitchen, washing dishes, and Weasley was at the table reading the Daily Prophet.

Goyle knocked on the wall as they entered. "What, not going to say hello to your guests?" he said wickedly.

Just as Weasley jumped out of his chair in shock and horror, drawing his wand from his pocket, Crabbe hit him with the Cruciatus Curse. Weasley screamed and hit the floor in agony and Hermione tried to help him, but it was too late.

"Imperio," Draco whispered, pointing his wand at her.

For a moment Draco's mind was split between two scenes. He remembered himself, Crabbe and Goyle facing off Hermione, Weasley and Potter. They'd done it so many times, it was branded in his mind. On one level he could see the old scene, them all perhaps in their third or fourth year, fighting in the hallway or during class. On another level he saw Crabbe standing over Weasley, Weasley screaming in pain, himself with Hermione just in his control, about to make her do whatever he pleased, Goyle standing to the side and laughing. It was double vision.

But Potter wasn't here. Potter was dead. Draco had been the one who captured him, brought him to the Dark Lord. He could remember Potter's face when he'd realized who's caught him. 

Hermione, still in shock, thought she recognized that voice. That soft whisper, with just a hint of sorrow behind it. She saw the hand holding the wand, the pale hand with the slender fingers that she had loved so much, that she had said were beautiful.

"Draco!" she said, just before the curse hit her.

"I can't believe you didn't recognize me before this, love," Draco purred, circling her like a cat circling a mouse that knows it's going to die. 

"You – cant –" she managed to gasp out from around the curse.

"I can't? Darling, I _am,_" Draco gave his wand a careless wave and Hermione drew her own wand, fighting all the way. "Crabbe, stand aside," Draco said.

"C-c-crucio," the words were wrenched out of Hermione's mouth and Ron screamed again. 

Soon the amusement began to pall, however. Draco flicked his wand again.

"Ro-n!" she yelled, tears streaming don her cheeks. 'I-I'm sor- sorry. Ava- Avada – AVADA KEDAVARA!" Draco forced Hermione to say it, and green light flashed from her wand towards Ron.

When Hermione's eyes cleared, she was pointing her wand at her husband's corpse. Draco lifted the curse, and she collapsed.

"MALFOY!" she screamed at him. "I hate you! I hate you! How could you do it? Kill me, kill me too…" she started to sob.

Draco looked down at her and the ice melted. How could he have done that…? To put Hermione in that much pain?

"Hermione."

"I told you to get out of my life before and I meant it." Hermione said in a dangerous tone. Her voice broke. "I loved you."

Draco turned on his heel and walked towards the door. "But you loved Ron more, didn't you?" he threw the words behind him. 'Come on," he told Crabbe and Goyle. "The Mudblood's not even worth killing." They walked down the hallway and out the door, slamming it.

As soon as he was outside the house Draco fired the Dark Mark into the air, watching the snake unravel in the skull's jaws. The Dark Lord would punish him for this, maybe even kill him. But Hermione had a chance. He had ruined her life, but she still had a chance.

__

I ruined her life like she ruined mine.

~*~

Hermione sat on the kitchen floor, staring at the tiles. Shock. That's what it was. But why had Draco let her live?

__

"The Mudblood's not worth killing."

No, it wasn't that. Could it be that he still cared?

__

"You loved Ron more, didn't you?"

She did. She knew how much she had hurt Draco by it, by not being true to him, but she did it anyway. She had taught him that love only ends in pain.

She'd ruined his life. Now he could go on neither side, having betrayed both. His fate was sealed. But Hermione had a chance.

She had a chance.

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Review!


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